


Petit Four

by ferix79



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dessert & Sweets, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pre-Relationship, Prom and Noct never met, Promptio Week 2017, Prompto is a Citadel staff member, Takes place in the game universe but nothing bad happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 07:55:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11331615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferix79/pseuds/ferix79
Summary: For Promptio Week Day 3, for the prompt dessert.AU that takes place in the canon universe, but without any of the in game plot happening. Prompto works in the Citadel as a server and part of the kitchen staff and he’s helping cater a large party one night. Long after the party is over, Mr. Amicitia phones the kitchen and requests a tray of desserts be brought up to his room...





	Petit Four

For being _by far_ the largest party Prompto ever worked at the Citadel—even the Oracle herself was there—his night went surprisingly well.

He didn’t break a single crystal glass or gold-leaf decorated dish and managed to avoid offending any foreign guests with well intentioned greetings.  The Prince’s Advisor himself—Scientia, he recalled, but couldn’t place his first name—even called him charming after he offered the man a glass of champagne. He offered one to the Prince, too, but he was his usual quiet and reserved self.  Mr. Scientia declined for him and the two drifted off into the crowd, but not before Prompto caught the Prince’s eyes resting on him for just a second too long. Odd, but not worth mentioning to anyone, not that he really had anyone to mention the odd gaze to.

He wound up in the kitchen at the end of the night, helping dry fine china and crystal glasses to a spotless shine before stowing them away. Prompto had long since given up on looking presentable—the party ended an hour and a half ago. Being around the rich and the royal was exhausting, but with his shirt sleeves rumpled and pushed up to his elbows, his red apron hanging at an angle off his hips and his automatic smile gone, he was beginning to feel a little less servant and a little more human. 

The shrill ring of the service phone on the wall interrupted his soft humming, but he’d long grown used to the startling noise and continued his polishing without missing a beat. He listened as his boss paced over to the phone and put on her best service voice, despite it being past eleven in the evening.

“Citadel Kitchens, how can I help you?”

A deep, muffled voice filtered out from the other end of the line. Well, at least they didn’t sound angry, Prompto thought. Probably just a group of Kingsglaive looking for some post-party alcohol after getting off their patrol shifts.

“Some dessert? Of course, sir. I’ll have it sent right up.”

Oh, dessert? Also not an out of place request, given the time of night and the amount of guests staying in the Citadel. Some visiting noble probably just wanted to impress their plus-one, or something.

The phone clacked back onto the wall mount as his boss hung up and she moved to the other room to deliver the request to the few chefs still around. The conversation sounded amicable, from what Prompto gathered, and after a few more minutes of drying and stowing his boss swept back into the room with a covered silver platter.

“Prompto, can you run this up to room 8623 for Mr. Amicitia?” she asked, and Prompto set the dishtowel down, “I know it’s late, and he might be a little drunk, but he’s a nice guy. He shouldn’t give you any trouble.”

Mr. Amicitia? The younger of the two, he guessed, because the King’s Shield would have been in a room closer to the King himself. Well, he wouldn’t be surprised if the Prince’s Shield had a date he was trying to woo; the guy was irresistible in both physique and personality, and no one could argue that.

“Yeah, of course, Ella,” he said, straightening out his apron as best he could, “no problemo!”

She chuckled at his enthusiasm as she handed the dish over and then Prompto was off, headed towards the service elevator that would zip him up the twenty-odd floors it took to get to Mr. Amicitia’s room.

While the elevator sped up past floors full of other Citadel staff, tipsy Kingsglaive members and tired party guests, Prompto used his time to take a peek under the silver platter. He usually did, especially went sent on a solo run like this. He’d never have the culinary or baking skills to produce the beautiful dishes that the Citadel chefs so casually whipped up, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t admire them.

Still half in the shadow of the silver lid sat two sets of petit fours—two of each variety.

The mini berry tarts were the most recognizable—a favorite of the Prince himself. Next to those was a fluffy chiffon cake with what Prompto knew was the richest icing in the kingdom; then an éclair that he guessed was chocolate and orange flavored. And rounding out the set were tuxedo cheesecake bites, a play on the evening’s white-tie dress code. Chocolate and berry syrup decorated the plate in whimsical swirls, surrounding the tiny desserts.

Just the sight had Prompto salivating. A platter fit for the Prince himself, even if they were just extra desserts not served at the party that the chefs plated up to look attractive. Prompto was sure that Mr. Amicitia and his date would be quite satisfied.

The elevator dinged its arrival and Prompto proceeded down the hallway, past a litany of doors that all looked the same. Most were guest rooms, or, like Mr. Amicitia’s, more permanent residences granted to key Citadel staff. Every dozen doors or so was a lounge used to entertain guests and a few of the doors led to storage and custodial closets.

All the way down the hall, on the corner of the building, was Mr. Amicitia’s room. Prompto took time to straighten up his posture and look as professional as one could at 11:30 PM, and then knocked on the door.

A full minute passed…but no answer. Perhaps he’d fallen asleep in the time it took Prompto to venture up here?

He knocked again and strained his ears to listen closer. Was Mr. Amicitia showering, perhaps? Prompto couldn’t hear any running water. Was he interrupting a heated moment between Mr. Amicitia and his date? He surely hoped not.

“Come in,” a deep voice said from the other side of the door and Prompto perked up with a smile. Ah, perfect! He could drop the tray off and get back down to the kitchens, and maybe even get out of here in time to catch the last train out of the central district.

Prompto grasped the handle and opened the door. “Your dessert,” he announced as he entered, “Mr. Amicit-ahhh!”

Instead of finding the man lounging in an arm chair or getting ready for bed, Prompto opened the door to Mr. Gladio Amicitia standing in front of his mirrored closet doors, fresh out of the shower and _stark naked_.

Well, okay, he was just barely covered by a towel he held in front of himself, but his backside—a very _fine_ backside, if Prompto had any say—was on display for all to see.

“Hey, thanks for coming by so late,” Gladio said, casual, like he wasn’t naked in front of a random Citadel staff member, “you wanna just set ‘em down on that table?” he suggested, nodding to a low table bordered by two plush armchairs. He wrapped the towel around himself and Prompto—unfortunately, or fortunately?—caught sight of the man’s front as he completed the motion. His knees felt weak.

“O-of course!” he stammered, and then forced himself to walk over to said table and set down the tray. At least he hadn’t dropped the desserts in shock.

Now that Mr. Amicitia was decent Prompto allowed his eyes to wander a little more. Huh, the man didn’t have a date here with him, or they weren’t here at the moment, anyway. Wonder why the kitchen sent up two sets of desserts…

“Well, I hope you enjoy your evening, sir,” Prompto bowed, just barely keeping his composure. On the inside, however, he was keeping it together by the skin of his teeth. He turned, planning to walk as calmly as possible out of the room and then sprint down the hallway, but a voice stopped him.

“Wait,” Gladio motioned to the two seats, “it’s Prompto, right? Why don’t you stay for a little while?” he purred, in a way that Prompto found hard to resist.

But he was on the clock. Enjoying food and drink with guests while one was working was strictly prohibited.

“What,” was all Prompto could say as he stood, frozen, one hand on the door knob.

“You look tired, and you worked that whole party, right?” Gladio explained, “So stay for a minute and enjoy this with me. I could use the company, really.” He settled himself into one of the chairs, still clad only in a dark gray bath towel.

Behind his calm façade, Gladio sat with bated breath as he waited for Prompto’s response. Yeah, he was a little drunk and this was a little (or a lot) irresponsible, but Noct dared him to get to know the blonde Citadel server, claiming that Gladio didn’t have the bravado to wing it.

It was a convenient bonus that the blonde was adorable as all get out, but that was beside the point if Gladio didn’t gain his trust.

“Come on, you work so hard, I know you do.  Just sit and get to know me for a while?” he inclined his head, looking at Prompto like a puppy waiting for a reward. “All I did tonight was watch the prince sulk, I don't have a hot date waiting for me or anything, I promise.”

Prompto weighed his options. He could turn around and go back to work, then go home and go about his life like normal. No doubt future meetings with Mr. Amicitia would be awkward.  Or he could sit and have fancy desserts with an attractive, single man from a good family.

Well, put like that, it wasn't a hard decision.

He loosened his apron to sit more comfortably. Rather than speak he lifted an éclair off the plate with delicate fingers.  The act was probably beyond rude, but Prompto was also beyond hungry, and at least the orange in the eclaire made it a little healthy, right?

Healthy, more like _heavenly._ The chocolate filling complemented the orange pastry very well and cut through the tart citrus to make way for the rich cocoa. Pity he couldn’t eat both of them…but, then again, Gladio might let him get away with a lot more than just that, tonight.

He glanced over to Gladio as he chewed. The man was staring at him with a mix of adoration and....something else, Prompto couldn't tell. Oh, right, he should probably say something.

"What's it like being the prince's shield?"

"Oh, duller than you imagine.  I work out a lot."

"Oh, I never would have guessed," Prompto joked and Gladio laughed.  He tried not to look taken aback--maybe Mr. Amicitia really did just want company.

"Yeah. Kinda the point, being a bodyguard and all. It pays off when it needs to."

“I’m sure…” Prompto trailed off, his eyes wandering across the man’s broad, still damp chest. His muscles were more impressive than anyone Prompto had ever seen, not that he went around seeking out shirtless men all the time. And the way his tattoo curled over his shoulders and biceps…it was addicting, really. He was almost waiting for some pretty girl to come waltzing out of the bathroom, clad only in her underwear and a sheer teddy, and ruin the whole mood, as if this was some big setup by Mr. Amicita to embarrass him.

…maybe he was just overthinking it.

“You look like you’re really enjoying this one,” Gladio leaned down and grabbed the other orange éclair from the plate, “suppose I should, too, since you took the time to bring them up here.”

He ate the whole éclair in one bite, which was probably the polite way to eat such a delicate dessert, now that Prompto thought about it. A crash course on proper dining etiquette for soups and pastas and wine and desserts flashed through his mind—skills his boss walked him through when he was first hired. Mr. Amicitia looked like the type of man that grew up living and breathing such etiquette—he and Mr. Scientia and the Prince himself. Perhaps he should pay more attention to the way his host did things.

“It is delicious,” Gladio hummed, taking his time to savor the mix of flavors on his tongue, “though that’s no surprise. That pretty redhead chef made these, right? What’s her name again?”

Prompto tore himself away from thoughts of trailing his tongue over Mr. Amicita’s collar bone—right across the dividing line where his inky black eagle ended and his dark skin began—to answer the question. “Uh…Kathy! Yeah, um, that’s her.”

Gladio nodded. “I knew it—even Iggy is jealous of her baking skill. She used to help manage a legendary patisserie down town, if I remember correctly. And she’s gorgeous, to boot.”

Prompto slouched down into his chair and had nothing to say—he didn’t know the chef very well, anyway. And with Mr. Amicitia tossing around compliments about women like that he didn’t have much hope for the man being interested in him.

“You’re prettier, though,” Gladio mulled over the idea, picking up the next pastry—the berry tart, “if you’re asking me.”

Prompto did his best not to squawk as he swallowed his tart, playing it off instead as a slight cough. Who just went around and _said_ things like that!? High society, apparently. He could feel the heat of a furious blush creeping up his cheeks already.

Gladio turned the tart around in his hands, admiring the way the light played off the sugar crystals topping the pastry. “I eat these things all the time—they’re the prince’s favorite,” again, he downed the whole pastry in one bite. “Doesn’t stop ‘em from being delicious, though.”

“T-thank you,” Prompto stuttered, the words tumbling out of his mouth. It was the only thing he could think to say after being complimented so casually. “That was very nice of you to say, Mr. Amicitia,” he kept his hands pressed between his thighs as they trembled, not trusting himself to pick up another tiny dessert.

Mr. Amicitia’s chuckle was so deep that Prompto could feel the rumble in his own chest, “well, it’s very nice of you to be so cute, then.”  

They sat in silence for a few minutes after that. Gladio partook in the perfectly cubed fluffy chiffon cake, but then noticed Prompto wasn’t eating his share of the desserts anymore.

“You can call me Gladio, you know,” he said, reaching down for Prompto’s chiffon cake, “anyone that gets invited to my room gets special permissions, you see.”

“O-oh,” Prompto mumbled, “well, thanks then, Gladio.” He looked up to smile at the other man, but came face to face with a cube of cake gripped delicately between Gladio’s fingers. He paused, unsure how to react.

“Cake?” Gladio inclined his head and gestured the dessert a little closer to the other man’s mouth.

Oh… _oh._ Gladio certainly was forward, Prompto thought. Well, grab the behemoth by the horns and all that, right?

Prompto leaned forward with caution, flicking his eyes up to Gladio’s just to assure that this _was_ his intention. He found a light smile playing on Gladio’s lips, unfaltering, and decided to go for it.

His mouth closed around the entire piece of cake, his lips caressing the tips of Gladio’s fingers.

The cake was divine and so was the expression of bliss on his host’s features. He didn’t want to say it--didn’t even want to think it--but he felt like he had Gladio wrapped around his little finger. Or maybe it was the other way around? Prompto wasn’t sure, but to sit there and be fed desserts by a rich man all evening...he didn’t care who was wrapped around who.

Prompto giggled as he pulled back and finished the cake, Gladio chuckling along with him. They finished off the platter with the creamy tuxedo cheesecake, the graham cracker crust melting across their tongues.

By the time all was said and done it was almost midnight.

“Hey, you live pretty far from here, right?” Gladio asked and Prompto was reluctant to answer. His family’s apartment in the industrial district wasn’t _that_ far…only twenty minutes by train on a good day.

“I mean…if you take the train…” he rubbed the back of his head, glancing to the floor. There was no way he’d ever be important enough to stay in the Citadel for a night, even with the hour so late.

“The last train left five minutes ago,” Gladio informed him, and Prompto slumped into his chair. Shit.

“Tell you what,” Gladio started again, crossing one leg over the other. Prompto caught a healthy eyeful of sculpted thigh. “Why don’t you go wrap up stuff with your boss and then come back up here? I’m sure I’ve got a shirt or something that’ll fit ya.”

Prompto was stunned, his mind gone entirely blank. Well…his boss would never know, right? She would just think that he left and walked back home. Nothing was stopping him from using the service elevator to come back up.

And really, who was he to deny this guy from flattering him and offering to share his bed?

Screw it.

“Sure,” he answered, maybe a little too enthusiastic, but Gladio seemed to appreciate it. Gladio accompanied him to the door, still clad in just a towel, and left him with a gentle squeeze of his hand. Prompto was hoping for a kiss but…well, he was still on the clock. He could wait a little longer, if it was for Gladio.

Gladio closed the door with a quiet click, careful not to disturb any of his neighbors at the late hour. The less people that saw the pretty blonde coming and going from his room, the better.

He sat back down at the pair of armchairs. Ah, Prompto had forgotten the silver tray. Surely his boss wouldn’t notice, given how late it was. He snagged his phone off the nearby table and began to type out a text to Noct right away.

Ha, and the Prince thought he didn’t have the charm. Fuck Noctis…actually, fuck Noctis was right, because he was sure that was exactly what Ignis was partaking in at the moment. Dumb Prince…if Noctis liked this server so much he didn’t see why he didn’t just invite him up to his _own_ room? But if Prompto liked him, and he was sure Ignis fit in there, somehow, Gladio didn’t see any reason why Prompto couldn’t get to know all _three_ of them better.

But not tonight.

No, tonight was definitely all theirs.

**Author's Note:**

> Is Prompto about to get a sugar-boyfriend? Is he about to get three sugar-boyfriends?! I’ll leave it up to you.
> 
>  
> 
> [my tumblr](http://ferix-writes.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Food's for the Soul](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11348580) by [Deniera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deniera/pseuds/Deniera)




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